Immature. If you had to describe your boyfriends in one word, it'd be that;: immature.

You were still at college, university, summer break specifically. Your boyfriends Art —the blonde, soft and gentle, one— and Patrick —the black-haired, nasty and unhinged, one— spent their evenings playing tennis on the court.

Today, however, It was way too hot for them to play in the out. So they had crashed at your house, currently sprawled out on your clean sheets.

Their skin, pale and tan, glistening with sweat and their locks sticking to their forehead. And they were acting like damn kids.*

It had started with them looking at your calico critters collection, and then grabbing them and moving them around. Of course with the joke of 'this is you yesterday' as Art showed Patrick a black cat and then gave it a flick of his finger to make it fall face first before bursting into mischevious chuckles and a "hey!" from Patrick. Boys will be boys.

You were just re-arranging all of your playmobiles on one shelf, it was your childhood room after all, and making sure the families you made up as a kid were complete and togheter in their places, when you noticed it was way too silent.

You turned around when you started to hear Patrick and Art snickering like little boys planning a prank.

"hey, babeee" Patrick all-but singsonged, a wide smirk on his face. A complete shit-eating grin.

And Art wasn't so far either, squirming in his seat while trying to hold the boisterious laughter you knew he wanted to let out.

You quirked an eyebrow at the silence that followed before Art was pointing to the self with your calico critters. They had pretty much turned the scenery into a full toy orgy, boys will be boys.

"this is us" Art added with a smirk not too much later, pointing to a "threesome" between a golden retriever calico, the black cat from earlier, and a white cat. Then they both burst into loud and obnoxious laughter, and you *swore that Patrick actually shed tears of laughter.